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I can see why people avoid the latest tab
As it seems to be ******* about life.
And political or religious hatred.
You'd think 2.5 million dead people would make their hearts heavy with self-reflection

but it seems not thusly so.
Just my thoughts.
To where do those memories go?
My and your soft lips meeting.
Exchanging values and ideas.
But like a conversation gone bad, you had no place in it.
A genius walks a lonely path.

Did our parents really ever "get" us?
Or were they just unfit to even bear the name.
Scoldings, put downs and assaults.
And the result is a childhood of treachery and miscommunication.
A genius walks a thorny path.

Where does a broken child learn they are special?
Feelings of inferiority build architectural grand designs of mental illness and rotting relationships.
And who really survives growing up?
Except me.
A genius rejects adulthood to walk as a child.

Why do the divine watch us?
Is it to see us suffer? To overcome the pangs of suffering and torments?
Is it truly a godlike quality to forgive? When will that be me being taken advantage of?
I know when.
A genius gathers no moss.

Will death come? Am I to respect such a thing?
Why would his hand touch so closely my throat, my brain and my heart.
Are the dreams messages containing factual information? Guides on life?
No, they teach us what we should be to death.
A genius bows his head to the dead.

What is the emptiness and fullness meant to be?
Will full people live on. Scraping by on whatever happiness chance chooses to make them aware of?
Will empty people believe all belief and concept is empty? A form of solipsistic ignorance of both destiny and loved ones.
To become full and empty.
A genius lives to burn, burn out and be brought back to life again.

What is a genius? From the brain of a genius? Eyes that can see through fraud and deception. Including ones own.
Yeah, I mean. Its decent
From where did I come from?
From whence did I arrive.
Was I 3, 4, 5, or 6 when my eyes could see things weren't alright.
Did the earth put me here to brings peace?
Does the bird think about its past nest.
Will the sea rise.
The sun explode.
And to where do I put my parents to rest?
Will I regale my children with tales of valor?
Will I curse their existence.
Do I deserve to be alive right now?

The bird does not let its past nest hold it down.
The sea will find a home somewhere else.
And I will be, just here. Breathing deeply, to make sure I'm still alive.
I dunno. Word salad.
Sometimes the wind blows past my face.
And I ask myself "How come my dress won't fit me?"

Sometimes the bath water is cool.
And I ask myself "When will my job get easier?"

Sometimes I destroy old pictures.
And I ask myself "Will my brother be able to handle his responsibility?"

Sometimes lights scatter on my slender figure.
And I tell myself "I think I should draw now."

Sometimes people say things about being a happy person.
And I prepare myself "Work starts early tomorrow, I'll go earlier."

Sometimes I need to feel something.
And I state facts myself "That driver is a terrible driver, but I'm a good driver"

Sometimes the drugs i do make people ashamed to know me.
And I whisper to myself "Everyone around me is so stupid."

Sometimes people take advantage of my kind nature.
And I scream at myself "Ugh! Why is work so unbelievably inefficient."

Sometimes I remember I came from a broken home.
And my lungs burn with ash "But I'm trying to quit."

Sometimes I hide my darkest secrets of people who betrayed me.
And I wail at the ceiling "God this night is fun!"

Sometimes I dream about a life where I'm happy.
And I tell myself from the bottom of my heart "I'm happy to be who I am."

Sometimes I think about ending my life.
And I tell my friends "I need time and space to get better."

Sometimes I cry for no reason.
And my heart speaks to me "It'll pass."

Sometimes I remember my heart has been frozen for  decade.
And I pridefully spout "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sometimes my nightmares give me anxiety attacks.
And I think "I need a warm shower to relax."

But tomorrow, after the dreams I can't handle have passed.
I'll forget a few more sad thing I've had done to me and have done to others.
And I'll echo the words of others to show them how stupid they are.
My heart will remain frozen to keep the few things I like about myself. Forget, forget, forget the memories that caused me so much pain. It's my only choice. Love, hate, pain, all of it has to go.
Sometimes I think I'm broken.
And I have been broken many times.
And know he should have picked me.
Because I'm better.

Because I can control myself.
Just my interpretation of a loved ones struggle. It's difficult when I'm not working with all the available information and a treacherous wound of betrayal but. In truth, I can find solace.
I am not a brave man.

I am the face in a crowd that hides in plain sight.
An angel with baggage that keeps me from flying.
A heart so wounded, no kiss could ever heal it.
A body that refuses to say "I'm okay."

I am not a wise man.

My mistakes have cut both ways.
I have brought the world against me and my loved ones.
Always, my enemies are pushing me away.
Be gentle, you press on my wounded heart.

I lose things.

Friends I will never gain back.
Skills I could never perform without trembling.
Enemies who's insults won't be forgiven.
Words that refuse to say I love you.

I did my best.

My ignorance was turned to sunshine.
The anxiety has closed its eyes to the world at large.
I forgave my first love who moved on from my embrace.
My tears were clear enough to reveal affection from my hate.
****** words paint the flowers a crimson red.
A dove recites the end of all mankind.
Rounding out his edges and sharpening his knives.
Amorous lovers ride the wave of life.
Heart worms my body still tries to burn away.

Kindly, I delude god and myself into a dream.
Every mindless prayer, my secrets scream.
And only my love remains.
To this day, he accepts the woman he lost.
Opals eyes that cry remorse.
No reply.

I can live without the friends I knew.

And each and every missing piece.
Morose taxidermist lives her dreams.

Sullen chords play the lonely song.
And I tell myself that I am strong.
Do the roses in your garden look pretty?
To the one who's happy. Even if I'm not.
Man was made in our image.
With innocent eyes that sought lights embrace.
And nestled in the arms of darkness.
An empty abyss who couldn't help but stare back.

Man cried till he was content.
And his heart did grow through the suffering.
And he came to know happiness as well as sadness.
But his eyes, they spoke with love.

Man walked his path under a forceful guidance.
And he remained ignorant to the suffering of his bearers.
Fighting ensued as man found comfort under the many stars.
In the field, he fought alone against the sun and the moon, and he lost.

Rage begat man as he learned togetherness and separation.
The beautiful flowers flourished, and he felt himself no more than a lone dried ****.
So, he cut those flowers and boiled them to see how they taste.
Now, only a desert remained as man boiled each oasis.

Man ate and hunted every animal.
He used the streets built by others and ate the meals he begged for.
This lone warrior stared back into the abyss and saw light within himself.
The strongest man he knew was his darkness alone, and so fought him and lost again.

Man could no longer force his guidance on the world so for the first time, his angry heart steadied and he listened.
And man looked back to the loved ones who perished behind him and cried till he was content.
He slowly memorized each grain of dust that made up every little thing. Starting over again and again.
Eventually, his heart strengthened and pulled him to the shores of Nibana. And he was alone. And he was satisfied.

On this day, man closed his eyes and writ this poem.
A poem made only with his heart that he could never have envisioned with his meager skill.
But his heart that knew darkness, its light is refined and built up a little each day.
And his rest is well-deserved.

Even if the reason he's alive, is safe and satisfied with another man. For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.
Just a story I thought of when I thought of a girl named Latisha. My work is continuing well. As always, my choices are my own. Even if they seem a bit odd.
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